A Companion's Wish
by Drovahnak
Summary: Oneshot. Harold is a new member of the Circle, being brought up in the Companions when his mother died by a vampire attack. He meets the Dragonborn, and goes on a short quest to fight a Dragon, and gets rewarded. Rated T for language. Please review!


_**A/N: Hello all! Instead of making huge fan fictions like Runaway with My Heart and the Season Unending trilogy, I took up the idea of making one-shots. They're easier to manage by far, and they can be about really anything, unlike a large story with multiple plotlines and such.**_

_**As so, I hope you enjoy this! This was written in my mothers' office in the space of a couple hours, so it probably won't be up to par with other oneshots.**_

_**Also, most of these events take place after the Dragonborn defeated Alduin in Sovngarde and then disappeared mysteriously, so the OC won't be Dragonborn. I kind of feel that most stories involve the Dragonborn or are about a man/woman finding out they have the powers, so I decided to take this story in a direction where the OC is just a normal man like you and I.**_

Harold sighed as he tossed in his bed under Jorrvaskr, the home of the Companions and… well, werewolves. He had joined not even a month ago and he has already moved into the Circle, a group of the fiercest warriors in the Companions. But, with his promotion came a curse… or a gift, if you talked to Aela. He had taken upon the Wolf Blood, his forbear being Aela. Aela was a true Nord: headstrong, vicious, but on the outside beautiful. Her red hair was shoulder length, and very clean for a rough and tough Nord. Maybe after all this business was done with the Silver Hand, he would court her, and even some day marry her. He snorted, and then flipped again. Most of the other new members were asleep, and Njaada was snoring like troll. In fact, she was the only one snoring at night. Torvar was always drunk, so all he did was babble. Ria and Avis were very heavy sleepers, so they never really were affected by Njaada's thu'um snore.

Apparently he finally fell asleep in the night, because when he woke up, most of the other members were getting dressed in plain clothes and heading up to breakfast. Even below, Harold could smell the venison and mead plentiful. He swung his legs out of bed and felt his feet hit the cold, stone ground, giving him goosebumps. He found a semi clean pair of breeches and a shirt, and then slipped up the stairs to the main room of the mead hall. The hall was alight with the sounds of members talking about their kills or their adventures. He also noticed most of them were drunk already. Torvar was already starting with his drunken rambles about his 'famous' dragon kill, "Li… Listen herrurre… I fought a DRAGUN yesterdey… No, really! His fangs…" Everyone burst out laughing as he began to trail off. All Harold could do is just rub his temples as he sat down. Being a new member of the Circle meant he had a little bit of pull around here, but not a whole lot. Harold had been getting pretty normal jobs; Aela had taken over his job search after him and her assault Gallows' Rock, a prominent Silver Hand hideout. It was Harold's reward for him accepting the wolf blood, although it was not a momentous occasion after they had cleared it out.

Skjor had fallen. Aela cursed and muttered under her breath, saying how 'he shouldn't had went in alone' and how he 'should've went with a shield-brother'. In retrospect, Harold felt guilty for his death, even though he shouldn't. Harold came out of his trance when Vilkas, another member of the Circle, slapped him on the back and sat down next to him, whispering "Good job on that Silver Hand hideout yesterday. Your payment is in your chest." That was another thing Harold liked about being in the Circle: every member had their own Job Chest, holding gold and other items given to them by the civilians. Every time they were given a job and completed it successfully, gold would appear in their chest. Harold thought it was magic at first, but then came to the conclusion that Vilkas, Aela, or Kodlak had a master key and stashed the gold in them when the members weren't looking. Who cares, Harold thought, at this rate I'll have Breezehome in no time. Breezehome was the empty house near the gates of Whiterun, running at 5,000 septims, but costing more if you wanted other things, like an Alchemy Room and an Enchantment Table. But being a Nord, Harold wasn't very… in tune with Magic, and wasn't very good with Alchemic solutions and potions. In reality, the only potions Harold knew how to make were healing and stamina potions, only because his mother had taught him when he was a pup.

"Thanks Vilkas, any new jobs?" Harold didn't want to sound too tired, but it was hard. The Wolf Blood made him never get a good nights' sleep. "Nope, we don't expect to get any soon either. Stormcloak and Imperials have been spotted nearby, so most people are staying inside, henceforth not getting into trouble. Take a few days off." Harold screamed joy inside of himself, but on the outside he only gave a nod and then walked down to his quarters. He was hoping that with his new position, he would be able to move out of the whelp area and maybe move into Skjor's old room, but he had felt that it was too early to ask. Harold dug out his leather armor, his sword, and his shield and decided that it was time for a little TLC for them. Instead of trying to lug all of it up to the Skyforge, he put his armor into a leather bag and carried his shield in his left and tethered his sword sheath on his hip. As he walked up the stairs to the main hall and then out to the Skyforge, he was confused. He had not seen Aela or Farkas at all. Probably out on the job, he thought, probably the job I was supposed to get. He smirked at the thought as he finally reached the top of the Companions' area, and probably one of the most important places in the whole compound, the Skyforge.

The Skyforge was unlike any other forge in Skyrim. Above the forge was a large eagle, carved in the stone with its wings spread out, encircling the entire area. The forge itself glowed redder than the one at Warmaidens did by far. And the steel made there? Absolutely legendary. If you were a normal person, you'd looked at regular steel and Skyforge steel and couldn't tell the difference. But a Companion knew the difference. Skyforge steel was more sharp and brighter, while regular steel was plain and dull. "Eourlund! Hello kinsman!" The white haired man looked up and smiled. "Harold! What brings you up to the Skyforge today? Don't know have jobs?" Harold shook his head, "Nope. Vilkas doesn't expect many jobs in the coming weeks since the Stormcloaks and Imperials are at each other's throats across Skyrim. I came up here to work on my armor and weapons, maybe even reinforce my shield." Eourlund smiled. Harold and Eourlund went way back, when Harold was just a small child. His mother was very good friends with the Gray-Mane clan, and periodically, they would have dinner with them and the Battle-Borns. "Come here, come here! I have something exciting to show you!" Eourlund motioned quickly at Harold. Harold dropped his shield and his leather bag and walked other. "What now Eourlund? Another 'Gray-Mane masterpiece'?" Harold teased Eourlund. Eourlund just snorted and replied, "I have been thinking of a way to make leather tougher and more durable. I think I may just have it. May I present…" He then held up a leather cuirass, the likes I've never seen before.

It was darker than my leather cuirass, and was more durable and breathable. I could feel myself drooling over it, wanting to try it on. "Ah, I know that look. Your mother had the same look when I gave her first sword to her. Try it on! I'll probably even let you keep it." I went to the Underforge and changed, then came back up. "It fits perfect. Breathable, durable, and very, very comfortable. It's a fine piece Eourlund." He smiled, time showing its mark on his face. "Keep it. Show it off to the other Companions, get me some more orders." Harold brightened, then started to work on his other pieces. Harold was a man of simple pleasures, but he loved metalworking. He liked his sword so sharp, that if he'd tap it with his finger, it'd draw blood. His shield was also different than the other member's shields. It was thick, but still light enough that he could easily smash it into his enemies' face. But when it came to the new cuirass, he couldn't improve it, because it was already improved. This was the peak of light armor, and Harold and Eourlund both knew it. He sold his old leather cuirass, bracers, and boots to Eourlund, then gave him a handshake and a hug goodbye. He treated this man like his father, like how the twins, Farkas and Vilkas, treated Kodlak, the man who took them under his wing. Harold never knew his father, and all he knew about him was that he was a "mead-swilling cheating skeever ass" as told by his mother.

After he had gotten done working on his sword and shield, he decided that a little practice was in order to test his reaction time in his new armor. He started on a dummy, and started to use the technique he had been working on ever since he was twelve. It was sword and shield, obviously, but it was a dirty fighting style. Most people that walked by gawked and stared at the unusual technique, but no one questioned it, because obviously it was working if he was still alive. And also, since his shield was so strong but light, he was also able to throw it, causing a debilitating attacked if it hit its mark. But, since he recently added it into his moves, it was fairly new and therefore still needed work to use in an actual battle. After a good two hours of training, he sluggishly drug himself into the mead hall and plopped down in a chair. The summers have been getting hotter and hotter for some reason, and it was scorching outside. "I can't wait for winter…" Harold muttered as he sipped on the Honningbrew Mead. Not bad, he thought, for a cheap knockoff of that Black-Briar shit.

That's when _he_ walked in. Dovahkiin, Dragonborn. The mead hall was quiet except for the murmurs of the whelps talking about the new arrival. He was a Nord, just like Harold, with jet black hair and a small goatee. His left eye was blind, by the white covering where his pupil should be. He had scars running all along his body, showing signs of many battles fought, and many battles won. He was huge, in muscle and height, looking like he could rip a sabre cat in half. "Hello, kinsman!" Harold jumped out of his trance when the man finally approached him. Harold stood up and answered back, "Well met. What brings you to our mead hall?" The man smiled and said, "I am looking for a few able bodies to come and help me fight a dragon. This certain dragon seems to be a bit tougher than the other ones I have faced." Harold smiled, almost jumping for joy on the inside. Facing a dragon with the Dragonborn? How many people can say they've done that? "Aye, go downstairs and speak to Kodlak, our Harbinger, at the end of the hall. I bet he can set you up." The man smiled, "Oh and by the way, my name is Argren, Argren Only-Hope." The man reached his hand out and Harold met his with his own hand. "Well met. I am Harold. Harold One-Eye." Argren smiled and left his sight, only for Harold to be preoccupied with Aela and Farkas, coming inside looking weary. "Hello Shield-Siblings! How was the job?" Aela sputtered, "Horrible. Told us we were going to fight tiny frostbite spiders, turned out to be vampires." Harold cringed at the word. Vampires, the one thing he absolutely hates. And with good reason too. Vampires were the reason that his mother was taken away from him when he was 10 when broodlings attacked Whiterun. They were killed, but his mother couldn't get away fast enough. Eourlund pulled Harold away and stabbed one before they got to him. He lived with the Gray-Manes until he was able to be accepted into the Companions as a squire-type man. He would get things for the senior members, like their swords or their shield, their bows, their arrows et cetra. He was always treated better than the other shield-carriers, because of his connection to the Grey-Manes, and pretty much had an open invitation to the group of warriors. "Nevertheless, the pay was well." Farkas hefted a medium sized bag as Harold gazed at it. "How much?" Farkas smiled, and replied "Three hundred fifty septims. Could've been more, but we talked the old man out of giving us everything. Gods, I was surprised he could even give us this." Aela stiffened, "Why is everyone quiet?" Harold gave a wicked grin, and finally said, "We have a new visitor. Dragonborn."

After thirty minutes passed, Kodlak and Argren emerged from the lower levels as Kodlak called everyone's attention. "As everyone might have seen, we have an honored guest among us," putting his arm around Argren, "and he has asked a mighty job of us. To slay a dragon." Everyone but Harold gasped, as he already knew the foe. "So in turn, I am sending the best: Aela, Vilkas, Farkas, Harold, be ready for the travel in three days. You will be on your way to Rorikstead to fight of a dragon." The Circle smiled. A challenge, they all thought, worthy of their skill. "And also, with the passing of Skjor, his room is now bequeathed to Harold, as the newest member of the Circle. Congratulations." Everyone patted Harold on the back. He felt accepted finally, in a group that understood him. He felt at home.

The next three days passed quickly, mostly consisting of Harold and the Circle perfecting their technique in preparation for the dragon fight. The pay for the job was very handsome too: a thousand septims towards each of the Circle, putting Harold over the mark to buy Breezehome. He was overjoyed, finally, a home to call his own. His mom would hopefully be proud of him, but probably a little sad over the fact he might not go to Sovngarde like a Nord should. Maybe Hircine will take pity and let him join his ancestors, but more than likely not. As the day finally came, the Dragonborn bought horses for each of the Circle members, and they rode off, listening to the tales of the Dragonborn and his travels throughout Skyrim. He noted the Western Watchtower, where he first discovered his power. As he rattled on, the day seemed to go by faster, and it was very enjoyable. Even the ever more impatient Aela laughed and carried on about the stories, which was quite rare. Argren gave the hand signal for 'Halt' and everybody stopped their horses. He pointed, with his finger towards the horizon at four figures. "Thalmor."

Argren explained that he saw four men, one in robes, two in Elven armor, and one in rags. "No doubt a Nord prisoner," Farkas said, "what should we do?" Argren gritted his teeth, then slyly replied, "If you guys are up for it, we could just kill…" The Circle said 'aye' in unison, and Argren smiled. Then, in unison, Argren drew his curved (CURVED. SWORDS.) sword, Harold drew his sharp sword, Aela, drew her bow, and Farkas and Vilkas both drew their swords also. "Aela," Argren whispered, "Hit the one in the robes. He is probably the most dangerous in the whole party. Vilkas, Farkas, Harold: follow my lead." The group smiled, then started charging towards the enemy. To the groups' surprise, the Thalmor hadn't noticed them until Aela shot an arrow throw the robed man's neck and Argren bailed off his and drove his sword through the robed Thalmor's back, impaling him. Vilkas and Farkas both jumped on one of the armored Thalmor's and started stabbing him until he cried mercy, while Harold fought sword and shield against the last Thalmor's spell and sword. In the end, Harold proved victorious, punching his shield into the man's throat, knocking him back ten paces. The force had snapped his wind pipe, giving him a slow death.

The prisoner was cowered in the ditch, watching the battle ensue. When it ended, the group approached him and asked his name, "Sk… Skulvar. From Rorikstead. They kidnapped me from my home, because of some 'Talos worship'." Harold looked at the man and pitied him. Imprisoned for worshipping Talos? The Empire had grown weak. "We're heading that way, we can take you there if you want." Argren spoke, softly, as if he shared Harold's pity. "T-thank you." Argren picked up the man and put him on his horse, then climbed up as well. And once again, the group set out for Rorikstead.

As they neared Rorikstead, he could see the excitement in Skulvar's face through his weary expression. Home means so much to this man, Harold thought, it's something he holds dear. As they rode into town, a woman, who was stout and tall, but Imperial, ran up to the man and tackled him, crying as he hugged her tightly. And a wife, Harold thought, he lives a good life. "How can I ever repay you Dragonborn?" Argren smiled, "No need, sir. Your happiness was enough." And, finally, at last, the Circle and Dragonborn set for the mountain near Rorikstead, ready to face the dragon.

The battle had gone better than what Harold was expecting. The dragon was no match for five battle hardened warriors. Harold even got to use his new move and had killed the dragon with it, gleaming like the moons on a dark night. Since the trip was short from Whiterun to Rorikstead, they rode back the same day. Most of the Circle was behind, while Harold stayed next to Dragonborn, asking him questions. "Do you live in Whiterun?" Harold asked. Argren laughed, "Well, yes, sort of. I hardly ever get to stay put for a long time, but whenever I do, I like to stay at Shearpoint, near Dragonsreach. Ah, Shearpoint. Harold had heard of the large underground house next to Dragonsreach. He had never been inside of it, but he looked through the skylight every so often. "I know you live in Jorrvaskr, Harold, but have you ever thought of living in the city instead?" Harold gleamed at the question, "Yes, actually. With the payment from this job, it put me over the mark for Breezehome. Although I won't be able to furnish it for a while…" Argren looked at him, and then smirked. "Hmm… In two days, come to Shearpoint. I might have a present for you." Harold looked at the Dragonborn confused, but said okay.

Three days passed, and he finally made the trek up to Shearpoint, where the Dragonborn was sweeping the front steps. "Ah, Harold!" Argren greeted him, then blindfolded him. "Now, grab my arm, and don't ask where we're going." Harold did just that, even with his curiosity peaked. He remember walking down the flights of stairs, so he guessed he was in the Plains District, and then he was led through a door and was greeted by the smell of burning wood and meat. "Now take off the blindfold!" Harold obeyed the command, and when he did, tears came to his eyes. He was in Breezehome, and he was holding the key to it. "B… But Dragonborn.." Harold stammered out, but Argren hushed him. "You deserve it. Think of it as an extra… reward for helping me." Harold couldn't help but hug him, almost crushing the burly man. "Alright, alright! And, I hope that one day, you can join me on adventures even. But for now, I saw my goodbye." And like that, Argren was out the door, leaving Harold alone in his new house.

He had never felt so proud in his entire life.


End file.
